Today 4 Us
by EverAfter89
Summary: This is a cute romanitc fic about Roger and Mimi and a huge change in their lives. Please review. Chapter 10 up!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing RENT. All the characters are the work of the brilliant late Jonathan Larson. **

**Also, this chapter is stunningly short. But the next should be longer. Enjoy and please PLEASE review! I've been reading RENT fics for ages and always review, and this is my first RENT fic so please do the polite thing and review. Your reviews have always been so valuable to me as a writer! Thanks so much! I love you guys! **

Roger strummed two G chords, then a C, bopping his head to the beat of a brand new tune.

"If you don't stop moving, I'm going to cut your damn ear off!" Mimi cried. She was standing behind him, cutting his hair. The beautiful hair that he'd neglected and was now almost down to his shoulders. She sighed. "Baby, you don't deserve hair this good. Ugh, stop moving!"

"You're interrupting the process, babe!"

"Process my ass. Now keep still!" She held his head in her hands and when that didn't work, flashed the scissors before his eyes. "If you want to keep your ears, you'll keep still."

He smiled. "Yes, _mom._" She whacked him upside the head. "Ow!"

Mark and Collins stood up from across the room. "I'm sorry," Mark said, "But I can't be a witness to this brutality. Best of luck, my friend."

"Wait, no! Mark!" He grabbed Collins by the sleeve as he walked past him. "Tom, don't leave me!"

Mimi grinned at them. "Buh-bye, boys." She turned back to her boyfriend. "Now keep still or I'm taking that guitar away!"

Snip, snip, snip, then "OW! You got skin!"

"Well, you shouldn't have been moving, damn it!" She looked at the tiny bit of blood dripping from his scalp and contemplated just how dangerous—how deadly—that drop could be for everyone else in the world. At least, everyone who didn't have HIV like she and Roger did. She let out a deep breath and kissed the little wound with great tenderness. "Better?"

"Much." She snipped a little more. "Just how short are you making it?"

She shrugged, but he couldn't see. "Maybe…centimeter longer than it was when I met you. I like it that length."

"But I want it short," he said.

"Ah, but who's the one who shares intimacies with you, baby?"

"Fair enough," he relented. She smiled and finished cutting, then swept the hair off the floor, tied it together with a piece of string, and put it in a drawer. "Mimi, that's disgusting," he said, "It's hair."

"My mama used to do this," she told him. "I hated getting my hair cut—always liked it long. So when I was little and she'd cut it, she'd tie it up with a ribbon and put it away. Kind of a weird tradition of ours. Now we can have a tradition of our own."

She came back over to him and used her fingers to sweep off the scattered bits of trimmed hair still on him. "A tradition sounds good," he said, and pulled her in for a kiss.

"So," she said when she finally pulled away, "What's this new song of yours going to be called? Wait, let me guess. 'Your Nose'?"

"Haha." He said, setting down his guitar. "Don't mock. Besides, I was thinking more like... 'Your Ass.'" She giggled and whacked him once more.

"Hey!" he said, rubbing his now very sore skull, "You know, we have _got_ to work on this whole abuse issue." She smiled that big smile again, her whole face glowing with happiness as she bent down to kiss him. Roger felt himself shift under her weight and before he knew it, he was falling off the chair and onto the floor, bringing her with him. They landed on the ground with a thud, Mimi, on top of him. He looked to her with concern, but saw that she was laughing. She was laughing so hard that she was crying and could barely breathe. "I love you," she said when she finally caught her breath. They began to kiss a third time with such passion; she couldn't help but start unbuttoning his shirt.

Just then, the front door slid open and Mark came in. "Forgot film—oh, God!" He looked at them lying there on the floor, one on top of the other, Roger half naked, and said only, "The floor! You have now conquered every single surface in the apartment with sex. The couch, the table, your bed, _my_ bed…but the floor? Where I—"

"Where you what?" Mimi said flatly, standing up and tossing Roger his shirt. "Where you stand?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "You two make me sick." He went into his room to look for film and Roger eyed the door of his and Mimi's room (yes, as of last month they were officially living together…with Mark and Collins, too). He raised his eyebrows seductively at her.

"Hmmmm…" she said, "You know I'm not really in the mood anymore. There's just something so hot about doing it on the floor…not a bed. Not now, anyway."

"Don't let me stop you!" Mark shouted from the other room.

"We won't!" Roger and Mimi said in unison. Roger and walked toward Mimi. She slipped just out of his reached and he began chasing her around the room. She rushed behind the table, gasping with laughter, with him directly across from her. He took a step to the left, she took a step to the right.

"You'll never catch me this way!" She teased.

"Wanna bet?" He darted after her and she took off running again. He cut her off in front off and caught her in his arms, both of them laughing breathlessly. Wrapped up in their warm and happy embrace, they started kissing _again_. Roger felt something light hit him on the back and he pulled away from Mimi. He looked at a condom on the ground that Mark had just thrown at him.

"No glove, no love," Mark said.

"Thanks!" Mimi chirped.

"Not like _I'll_ be needing it anytime soon. Bleh. I'm going out to buy film. Need anything?"

"Yeah," Roger said doing that sexy eyebrow thing again. "Duct tape."

"Do I want to know why?" Mark said.

"Probably not."

"Right. I'll be back in a few hours. By then you should be done doing…whatever it is you're going to do. Bye."

Ignoring him, they went toward their room.

"Yuck." Mark spat, but he couldn't help but smile. Then he walked out of the apartment muttering, "Film, duct tape," so as not to forget.

"Now," Mimi said once they were alone. "Where were we?"


	2. Chapter 2

Next morning, the black oblivion of sleep dissipated as Roger awoke to the steady tempo of rain pounding lightly on the roof above him. He looked lovingly to Mimi who was still lost in sleep. Her mouth was open partly and her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths. He wanted to hold her, but he settled for running his fingers gently through her smooth black hair and covering her against the morning chill with another blanket.

He pulled himself out of bed and dressed quickly in his worn jeans and a white undershirt and walked into the kitchen. He decided he was going to make Mimi breakfast. However, he quickly remembered that he didn't have the slightest idea how to cook. Unless, that is, if heating up canned soup was considered cooking. And even that he couldn't achieve without it burning or sticking. So he settled on making coffee. He heard something behind him and turned around to see Mimi standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing nothing but Roger's large black "White Stripes" T-shirt. When she yawned and stretched out, the T-shirt rose just a little too high, giving him a little glimpse.

"Is that an invitation?" Roger teased, staring at her.

"Mmmm. Morning, babe," she grumbled, and came to him, falling into his arms. He kissed her head and smelled her hair. How did she do it? How did she always manage to smell **so good**?

"Whatchya doing?" She asked when they finally came apart. He held up the bag of coffee for her to see. He poured an unusually large amount of it into the coffee maker. She raised her eyebrows. "Shy not just pour water into the bag?"

"Don't think I haven't considered it."

She yawned again and flashed him that melt-your-heart smile again. That smile. That smile that could part the clouds over even the most cynical pessimists. "Whatever, stud," she murmured. "My God you are beautiful."

"Me?" He asked.

"You." She planted a big kiss on his lips and pulled her in for another. Just then, Collins emerged from his and Mark's room. "Oh, well that's a bit gorgeous, isn't it," he said, staring at them. Mark came out, too and sat next to Collins. "Sung as a bug in a rug."

"How poetic," said Mimi. She checked her watch. "Shiiiiit, I've gotta get to class." She rushed back into her room to throw on a bra and underwear, jeans, and a Pace University sweatshirt. She tied back her hair and studied herself in the mirror. "Well, look at me," she whispered to herself, "college girl." She had started only a few weeks ago for the spring semester, taking courses in the Pace Nursing Program (she only had 3 more years to go, as she'd dropped out after her first year so she could support herself). She was going to help other people with HIV. She felt right holding her books and folder with the kittens on it that Maureen had gotten for her. She just felt right. It didn't matter that she and half her friends would probably all be dead before the new millennium. All that mattered was that she was happy **now**. Roger came in beaming with pride for her. No words were needed. She kissed him gently and slipped out the door, grabbed some coffee, and left for class.

When she was gone, Roger sat down next to Mark and Collins and said, "I think I'm in trouble."

"Poor baby," Mark mumbled angrily. It's not that he still missed Maureen. He just missed how he'd felt when he was with her.

"You'll find love again," Collins told him. "Just give it time."

"Yeah," Roger chimed in, "you both will."

Collins shook his head. "Oh, no, no, no. Not me. I'm taking. Angel was the only gal for me." There was silence. Neither of them knew what to say. Roger suddenly felt horrible. He and Mimi had been practically flaunting their love all over the place (the couldn't help themselves!).

Collins seemed to sense what Roger was thinking and said, "No, no. Don't stop the mushy goo on my account! It only makes me happy to see you guys together."

He smiled his thanks. There was silence again, so Roger cried, "What are we? A bunch of women? Sitting around talking about our _feelings_…let's go out and be men!"

Mimi came home to an empty apartment around 4:00 that day. She was, of course, genuinely happy that Roger had at last given up his monkish habits of reclusion and staying indoors all the live long day, but still wished there was someone around to break the silence. Roger's CDs weren't in their usual place, so she popped in the only one she saw. She recognized the familiar tune of the violins and flutes immediately. It was The Four Seasons. _Who the hell in this apartment listens to classical music?_ She found a note on the counter that read, "Out being a guy. Will be home around 6ish. Remember the gang's coming to hang tonight. –Roger."

She sighed, tied her sweat shirt around her waist, and settled on making dinner for everyone to pass the time. She looked through the cabinets to see what she could find—most of it was Collin's vegetarian crap—and managed to scrounge up an half empty bottle of vegetable stock, tomatoes and peppers, lentils, and beans. Enough to make a good vegetarian soup, she decided.

Suddenly, she had a flashback about the person who taught her how to cook. Angel Dumott Schunard.

_It was about four years ago, when Mimi was 16 and a Girl Scout. Not because she especially wanted to know how to build a camp fire and build her own tee-pee. The closest she cared to get to the wilderness was Central Park. But if she wanted to get a scholarship to college, she need some impressive extra curricular to put her ahead of her game. Her guidance counselor, Mrs. Lovejoy, who she was sure was on some kind of perky pill, had insisted that Girl Scouts was the perfect solution. Somehow, Mimi managed to convince her best and only friend, Ruby Tedesko, to come with her. When they were walking home from a Troupe #451 Meeting, Mimi noticed another girl coming out of the Troupe #450 meeting in the uniform (a green skirt, shirt, and hat) just like hers and Ruby's. When she looked closer, she realized that this "girl" had a buzz cut and no boobs. She was a he! She couldn't help but stare and laugh a little. After all, it _was_ kind of funny. A 16 year old boy in a Girl Scout uniform!_

_Mimi shoved Ruby. "Yo," she said, "Who's the drag!" _

_Ruby turned around and laughed. She whispered in her thing Spanish accent, "He's the Schunard kid. He lives in my building. What a freak! He's _such_ a fag! Everybody says so!"_

"_Doesn't he go to our school?"_

"_Yeah, but he doesn't wear a freakin dress!" _

_It was clear that the Shunard kid heard them, but he didn't say a word as he walked home. _

_That night, Ruby was caught dealing drugs and was sent to Juvie. After that, when Mimi had her weekly troupe meetings every Wednesday, she could see the Schunard kid following her home, walking just a few yards behind her in silence. It was strange. If he really lived in Ruby's building, then he would have turned left when they hid 3rd Street. But instead, he just kept on walking behind her. On the third Wednesday, she suddenly stopped by an alley and turned around as she was walking home and shouted, "Yo, drag! You stalkin me or something!" _

_Just then, something came out from behind a trash can and pulled her into the alley. A knife flashed before her eyes and a tall boy from her school towered over her. She knew him. They called him Spider. She screamed. The terror was so real! The smacked her and told her to shut up, held the knife to her throat, and began removing her skirt. _

"_You don't want to do that." It was the Schunard kid. _

"_And why not?" Spider hissed. "Little she-male gonna beat me up?"_

"_No," the Schunard kid replied. "She's got HIV. If you have sex with her, you'll get it, too. And you'll die." Mimi, with tears streaming down her face, looked at him with utter confusion._

"_This true, bitch?" Spider bellowed. Mimi hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "Well, I don't want any of yo' blood on me, then, bitch! I guess I'll just have to kill the she-male instead!" He smacked her again, just for the hell of it, then stood and walked over to Schunard. He punched him in the gut._

_The boy bent down in pain, but still managed to say, "You know what? Do what you want. Because I'm more of a man than you'll ever be, and more of a woman than you'll ever get." That was the last straw. Spider raised the knife. The Schunard kid stood absolutely still. Just as Spider was about the stick it into his throat, Mimi hopped to her feet and jumped onto his back, kicking and biting with full force. All of the screaming mustered up quite a bit of attention from the streets, and a man in his forties started running over to help them. Spider threw Mimi to the ground and made a run for it, the old guy on his tail. _

"_You okay, girlfriend?" Said the boy. Mimi nodded and started to sob. "What is it?" he asked. "You can talk to me." _

_She looked into his eyes, not intending on telling him anything. But the words just came out. "Everything's so screwed up!" She wailed. "My dad robbed a pharmacy and now he's in jail, my mother can't pay the rent, and my only friend in the world got arrested! My life is over!"_

"_There, there," The boy soothed. He pulled out a little handkerchief with a yellow and red bird hand embroidered in its corner and dabbed at her tears, then at the blood oozing out of her nose. "You know, I can't do anything about your daddy or mom, but if you want, I can be your friend."_

_Mimi narrowed her eyes. "I don't even know your name." _

_He offered her his hand and helped her stand up. "My name is Angel," he said. "What's yours?"_

"_Mimi. Gosh, you really are an angel. Angel, can I ask you a question?"_

"_Anything, dear."_

"_Why have you been following me?"_

_He laughed. "I thought by now it'd be obvious. It's because of Fredrick."_

"_Who?"  
_

"_Oh, everyone else calls him Spider." Mimi giggled. Fredrick. Ha! "Yeah," he continued, "he's been following you for a while and it got me worried. So I decided to follow you home, too, just in case."_

_Mimi couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around him. "Th…thank you, Angel. You saved my life!"_

_He…she laughed out loud. "Well, it's worth it, just for a great hug like this!"_

_She let go. "Can I ask you another question."_

"_You may."_

"_Why did you say that I've got HIV? I don't got that."_

_Angel hung his head. "It's the only think I knew would stop him from…raping you."_

_Mimi nodded. It made sense. "How'd you think of that?" _

_Angel shrugged. "Because I have it."_

"_On, no!" Mimi said. "I'm sorry!" She felt like crying again. "But…how? Aren't you only 16?"_

_Angel nodded. "I was born with it. Oh, don't be sad, it aint that big of a deal! Look at me, look how healthy a I am now! Today is all that matters. You'll do well to remember that. Now, dry those tears, sweetheart. I just saved your life. So I think you should make me dinner!" He took her hand. "Of course, we can do it together. Everything is best when it's with a friend." _

Mimi came back to reality and sighed. It hurt to think about Angel. He had been her best friend in the entire world. And now he was gone. She looked up through the open window and up at the sky. That's where Angel was now. With the angels. She blew him a kiss. "I miss ya, girlfriend." Just then, she felt a gentle breeze stir her hair.

She smiled and went back to cooking. It was oddly soothing. She felt very grown up, chopping vegetables and listening to the classical music. Just then, the phone rang and she rushed to answer before the machine got it. After all, what talking on the phone was a grown up thing, too.

"Yo," she said.

"Hola, mi chica bonita! Es tu mama."

"Hola, Madre." _Bleh._

"Que Pasa, Mimi?"

Mimi sighed. "Mama, you know I barely speak Spanish."

"Fine, whatever, Chica. So, how you been?"

"Fine."

"How's your health? Are you eating better? You know, you were so thin last time I saw you!"

Mimi paused. She still hadn't told her that she had HIV. "I'm fine, Ma. I've gained some weight. Everything's fine." Her mother said nothing, as if she were expecting more. "And I finally quit smoking." She didn't mention that half the reason she had done so was because she was on birth control.

"Oh, that's great, beautiful! I'm so proud!"

"How's daddy?"

Suddenly, her Mama's voice was very harsh. "How should I know?"

"He's your husband, Ma."

"Well, I haven't spoken to that man since he got arrested four years ago!"

"But, Ma," Mimi said cautiously, "he'll be getting out in only 3 years. Do you think you'll make up with him?"

"Let's talk about something else, okay?"

"Like…?"

"Like why you don't ever call me back! I called twice this week. Left a message with that _muy bonita_ boyfriend of yours. Robert?"

"_Roger_."

"Yeah."

"Mama, I'm sorry, I didn't know—"

"Aaiii. Hold on, sweets. Someone's at the door." Mimi stirred her soup and waited. "Back. Sorry, Chica, Mrs. Bonilla is here. He husband fell down the stairs. Now he needs a hip replacement! She wants me to sit wither her at the hospital. Call me later and _don't forget_!

"Bye, Ma." She hung of the phone and was suddenly very angry. She continued chopping the tomatoes with a very lager kitchen knife when Roger came home alone.

"How was hanging with the guys?" Mimi said.

"Good," said Roger. He came up behind her and kissed her cheek. She tensed up and kept chopping.

"I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour."

"Yeah, band practice was cancelled. Sam is having another midlife chisis."

"Another gray hair, then?"

"Indeed." He laughed and she was silent. "Something up?

"That depends," she said, "Did anyone call for me when I was out?"

"When?"

"Whenever."

He thought for a moment. "No, no, I don't think so."

"No one?"

"No."

"Not a single call?"

"Exactly."

She turned to him, knife in hand, and looked him square in the eye. "Not even my mother?"

"Oh," he said, then "oh," again. "Shiiiiit. I'm SO sorry! I forgot."

"Mmmhmm," she muttered, clearly pissed off. "Tell me, how hard is it to write down a simple god damned message, Roger? Now my mother is all pissed because she thinks that I don't want to talk to her. And by the way, I DO want to talk to her."

"Could you perhaps put the knife down? It's making me just a tad bit uncomfortable…"

"Oh, I'll put it down. I'll put it down in your heart and cut it out and put it in this soup! Then I'll feed it to everyone when they come over in an hour after I hide your chopped up body over that god damned leaky roof!"

He waited. "Soup? Hmm, what is that, lentils? It smells good."

"Don't be cute, do _not_ be cute!" She snapped, and held the knife high. "I want you to swear to me."

He raised his right hand. "I swear."

"Get on your God damned knees and swear to me," she yelled pointing the knife at him.

He knelt slowly on the ground and raised both his hands in mock surrender. "I swear. I swear that I will always remember to tell you when that psycho mother of yours calls."

Mimi and Roger both burst out laughing. She dropped the knife on the counter and bent down, climbed in his lap, and kissed him. "You suck," she whispered.

"I know," he sighed, "What do you want to do about it?"

"Kill you."

"Okay. Then what?"

"I dunno, what do you wanna do?" He did that sexy eyebrow thing yet again and she gave him a "yeah right" kind of look. "You," she said, "get to do the dishes after we eat while I'm catching up with everyone."

"Fair enough," he agreed, smiling. "But what about after they go home?"


	3. Chapter 3

Mimi was lying on the bed with her door locked. Roger was pacing just outside the room waiting patiently for her to talk to him. Doughboy, her fluffy new gray and white kitten Roger had found, was working his way between her legs. Life Support hadn't gone well and she was beginning to spiral back into depression. Mary fainted during the meeting and had to be rushed to the ER. The doctors didn't think she was going to make it. The virus was taking hold and she wondered who was next.

She took very little comfort in the fact that she knew it wouldn't be her. The doctor at the free clinic said that she could have years left now that she'd completed rehab and was clean, was taking her meds, and was taking care of herself. Roger, too. But the whole certain death thing was never far from her mind. She just hoped it would be quick. When Angel expired, it was slow and painful. Maybe she would be hit by a car or something and wouldn't have to suffer through such a degrading demise. Angel would have slapped her for thinking something like that. Angel. It always came back to Angel.

"Come _on,_ Meems, just talk to me!" Roger finally shouted from the other room.

She sighed and held her head in her hands. "Roger, please," she said calmly, "just ten minutes alone to myself. That's all I need. Please, Roger." No answer. "I love you?"

She heard him letting out a long breath. "Ten minutes," he relented.

She said nothing. Ten minutes was a lot to ask from a man who didn't know if his girlfriend was about to suffer a nervous breakdown. Just because she'd cried during Life Support. Everyone had just kept pushing her to tell her mother about her disease. They didn't understand why she couldn't—why she wouldn't. But before they could go any further, Mary collapsed and it was all down hill from there.

She pulled _Peter Pan_ out from under her bed. There was something special about that novel. It wasn't just a book. It was precious to her. Angel had given it to her nearly 2 years ago when she got those test results back from the clinic. Angel had found solace in the story of the boy who could never die because refused to grow up. Now Mimi turned to it for comfort. The cover was nearly torn off, she'd read it so many times. She kept reading when the phone rang and Roger answered. She kept reading even when she heard him hang up the phone and bang on the door.

"Mimi!" He shouted in his angry tone. "I get that you're going through something, but I swear if you don't open this door…" His voice trailed off.

She didn't want to talk to him. She wanted to stay in Neverland. "What do you want!"

"I just got off the phone with your mother!"

_Uh oh…_

She dropped her book and ran to open the door. "I can explain!"

"Don't bother," he yelled. "God, Meems, I can't believe you!"

"No!" She cried, "You don't understand."

He gritted his teeth and pointed an accusing finger at her. "Don't understand what? How in addition to lying to your mother about yourself, you've also been lying to her about me! Telling her I'm a doctor…that we're buying a 3 bedroom apartment…that we're engaged! They have a name for this. It's pathological lying!"

Her eyes widened in fear. "You…didn't tell her the truth, did you?"

His jaw dropped. "So you admit you lied! That's low, Mimi. _Even for you!_"

She touched his arm, but he shook her off. "Roger, please. It's not that big a deal!"

"Yes, it is! What, are you ashamed of your loser ex-junkie rock star boyfriend? Or should I say fiancé? We talked about this! I thought we were on the same page! Neither of us are ready for marriage! Or at least I'm not. I guess you are!"

"Just stop yelling!"

"NO!" He bellowed. His face was bright red with rage. A purple vein was puling in his temple. Why was he so mad?

Stung, Mimi began to cry. "Asshole," she whispered, and ran out of the apartment. She waited outside the front door for a moment for Roger to come after her. Then they could kiss and make up and everything would be right again. But Roger didn't come after her. She listened for a moment. Maybe he was tying his shoes? Then he'd come for sure. But all she heard was the bedroom door slam shut and rock music blasting. _Oh, God, _she thought, _What if he hates me?_

Tears streaming out her big brown eyes, she bolted down the stairs, out of the building, and down two blocks. Before she knew it, she was in the only place she could think to go. Maureen's and Joanne' place.

Joanne was representing a woman who'd killed her rapist, so Maureen answered the door.

"Freckles!" She cried, giving Mimi a big bear hug, "Why are you crying! What happened? Are you okay?" She felt her forehead.

"I'm fine," 'Freckles' said, her voice choked. "Since when is that my new nickname?"

"Since I saw those freckles on your face."

"Maureen, that's a zit. Oh, God, I'm breaking out. I hate stress! Oh, God!"

"Here, sweety," Maureen cooed, leading her to the sofa. "Sit. Okay, it's time to bring out the hard liquor. Oh, but you're not 21 yet! Oh my God, you're not 21. You're so young! Aww, that's adorable. But hell, it's like what? A month until your birthday? Less, right? No, maybe it's more. We're going to have to throw such a huge party for you! We can get you another cat! How's Doughboy, by the way? Oh, and we'll have LOTS of booze at this party! Speaking of which, here it is. Scotch. Not like I drink it. I mean, Hell! Why do you think the bottle is full? I'm a martini girl all the way. Actually, I'm an anything girl. What about you? What's your favorite drink? I might have something stronger…"

"MAUREEN!"

She stopped and handed Mimi the drink. "What?"

"Roger and I…wooh! That's strong scotch! Well, we had a fight."

Maureen looked relived. "Oh, honey, you fight all the time!"

She nodded sadly. "Half our conversations are arguments. But not like this one. This…was a _fight_. It's not like it was even an important thing to fight about…but the way he yelled at me…it was scary!" Her lip began to quiver. "What if I screwed this whole thing up? Everything…" she said, "It's all falling apart." Maureen looked at her quizzically. "Roger and I fight all the time. And it's usually fine. Hell, it's fun! But my life…there's things in it, you know, with my family. And it's screwing everything up. Plus…"

"What?"

"What if I'm dying?"

"Honey…"

"I know the doctor said I had some time, but I remember how I felt last year when I almost died. I think I'm feeling that way again."

Maureen took Mimi's chin in her hand and said, "You're. Not. Dying. You're too stubborn. It's all in your head." She took a big fluffy blanket and covered Mimi. "We're sisters, right?" She said, laying her head on Mimi's lap.

"Yeah…I guess we kind of are."

"Well then you can sleep here tonight. That's the kind of thing sisters do for each other. Tomorrow you'll be all cooled off and you can go home. You can tell him the truth."

Mimi finished the scotch and poured herself another glass without getting up. "How do you know I'll be ready?"

"Well," she said, taking the bottle and pouring liquor straight into her mouth, "This is your first big fight, right?"

"Indeed."

"So that means that tomorrow you get to have your first make-up."

The next morning, Mimi left Maureen's place before the sun was fully up and headed home bravely. She marched right up the stairs and into her flat. Everyone was still asleep. She walked straight over to her door and threw it open. Roger shot up, confused.

He looked comforted when he saw Mimi standing in front of him, but before he could say anything, she blurted out, "She has lung cancer."

He rubbed his eyes and motioned for her to come closer. "What? Who?"

"My mother. She's a chain smoker and it's killing her."

He sighed heavily with sadness. "Mimi, I…"

"We found out a couple of moths ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you—I couldn't. I couldn't."

He pushed his hair off his face and reached for Mimi's hand. She took his and sat on the bed next to him. "Mimi, I'm sorry. If I'd known…"

"I'm not finished yet. I shouldn't have told her those things. But in all fairness, half of it was her assumptions. I'm not ashamed of you." She licked her thumb and wiped some dirt off his cheek. "I never could be."

"I'm sorry I—"

"But my mother always had these dreams for me, you know? And she's dying now. She's not going to live to see Christmas. I just…wanted to give her everything she wanted for me. I don't know what I was thinking when I made up that bullshit. You of all people know I'd never marry a _doctor_. I didn't think you'd ever find out."

"Mimi," he began uncertainly.

"Let me finish. She's dying, okay? So can't I just let her have her dream? Can't I let her go on thinking that I'm a healthy girl who's in college and marrying a doctor and that I'm going to make lots and lots of little doctors?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." She said. "I just want to stop fighting. I…love you."

"I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

Mimi was the first to wake up. It was rainy and just plain sad out. She figured it suited the mood she was in. Usually she showered with Roger, but it just seemed wrong today. She showered quickly and dressed quietly in her black dress and fancy shoes that were half a size too small and made her feet blister. Roger woke up when she moaned in pain while taking a step in the shoes-of-death. He gave her a sad smile and said nothing. She sat down on the bed next to him and touched his hair gently. He took her hand and kissed it, making her heart yearn for him. He dressed in his only suit and had Mimi tie his only tie. She put a single braid in her hair and went out to the kitchen were Mark and Collins were sitting, looking sober.

It was a difficult scene. Mimi felt her knees buckling and steadied herself on Roger's shoulder. He looked at her with such sadness, it broke every other heart in the room. They held hands for comfort.

"Ready?" Mimi said.

"Ready."

"Ready."

"Ready."

They left the building, and headed for the church.

_The last funeral was Angel's, _thought Collins.

_The next funeral will be my mother's, _thought Mimi.

_Mimi doesn't look too good. Oh God, please let her have more time,_ thought Roger.

_Everything's falling apart. I'll be alone soon,_ thought Mark.

Today was Mary's funeral. Mary from Life Support. Her HIV turned into AIDS and she'd caught pneumonia and died suddenly.

The church was 14 blocks away, but none of them felt like using public transportation. Walking just seemed right. Mimi's shoes made her feet bleed, so she held them in her hands and walked barefoot the entire time. Roger offered her his shoes but she just smiled and kept walking.

They met a lonely Maureen when they at last reached the church. Joanne had been away on business doing something with international law when Mary died and couldn't get home in time. Not like it really mattered that much. Joanne and Maureen had barely known her. They'd only visited Life Support once or twice. Lucky them.

Maureen used her eyes to ask, "Is everything better with you and Roger?" Mimi nodded. Then her eyes asked, "How are you feeling?" Mimi just stared, her eyes not answering. She then let go of Roger's hand and took Collins aside.

"You don't have to go in there, you know," she said. "It might be hard for you."

Collins bowed his head. "It's time I let go of my pain," he said. "Mary was a good woman. She was my friend. I need to be there. I'll be fine." She hugged him tightly and wished she'd known Mary better. "Thanks, Meems."

People started going into the church. A limo pulled up and out of it came the people who were undoubtedly Mary's family. They all had the same pretty blonde curls, except for one man. He must have been Mary's husband. A little girl, no more than seven or maybe eight, clung to him. She was beautiful. So beautiful, Mimi wanted to run up to her and hug her.

"Is that Mary's daughter?" She asked Collins.

"Yup. And do you wanna know the sad part?"

She turned to him. "Not really."

He told her anyway. "Mary didn't know that she and her husband had HIV, so they didn't start getting treatment until about a year ago. Nether did their daughter."

Mimi's heart sunk. "Oh, no."

"She's got advanced AIDS. Mary had said the doctors were only giving her a few months to live."

Her throat suddenly got very tight. "But…she's just a baby! She's just a little baby!" Roger ran to her when he heard her shout. Her legs felt like they stopped working. She collapsed sobbing and he barely caught her against his chest. "The poor little girl," she cried.

He looked at her cheerlessly, watching all her mascara run down in her pain. He hoisted her up and held her close, kissing her head and stroking her hair, whispering, "Shh. It's okay. It's okay." She couldn't stop sobbing. Roger told the gang that he was going to take her home. The funeral would just be too much for her. She went with him obediently, too weak to protest. They headed down the block and she remembered nothing more after that.

She heard a beep. _Beep, beep, beep_. It was annoying. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital. The beep was measuring her pulse. Roger's hand was holding hers, his head asleep on her stomach. He felt her move and woke up.

"Thank God," he breathed when he saw her eyes were open.

She heard the beep getting a little faster. She was getting nervous. "How long was I out?" She asked.

"A few hours."

"I don't get it," she said. "What happened to me, Roger?"

He stroked her hand. "You…fainted. The doctor said you were in shock."

"Shock." She repeated. "No," she said, and the beeps got faster. "It's the HIV! Oh God, do I have AIDS now?"

"No," he said. "Of course not."

But the beeping didn't stop. She knew he was lying. Or maybe he just didn't know yet.

"Roger?" she whispered.

"I'm here, Mimi."

"I'm scared."

There was nothing he could do to take her fear away, so he just kissed her hand and tried to be brave for the both of them. A doctor came in. He looked like someone who should be on a soap opera, with dark gelled hair and deep blue eyes. "Miss. Marquez, I'm glad to see you're up. I need to speak to you in private." He looked accusingly at Roger. "Mr. Davis?"

"I don't want him to leave," said Mimi. "Anything you have to say, it can be said in front of him."

The doctor looked at his chart. "Mr. Davis is your boyfriend, right?" They both nodded. "I'm going to have to insist that I speak to you alone." She sighed and nodded to Roger, giving him permission to leave. He kissed her again and walked very slowly out of the room.

"What is it?" she said. "Have you found out what's wrong with me?"

He nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

He told her.

Her eyes widened and slowly, she brought a hand to her mouth. She shook her head. "Do the test again," she said.

"We did it twice, just to be sure," he said. "That's why you're so weak. You see, you're anemic. But don't worry, it's very common in the early stages of pregnancy."

"No!" she said. "I was on the pill!"

He made a note on his chart. "Uh huh, the pill's only 97 effective."

"But…I can't have a baby. I'm only 20! And I'm in nursing school! I can't have a baby."

He sighed. "Then I suppose you won't have it."

"Oh," she said. "You mean…abortion? I guess…maybe…"

"Miss Marquez, I don't want you rushing into anything. Now, you're only a few weeks along. There's still plenty of time if you decide not to have this baby. But I really want you to think about this. I gave you some meds to help with the anemia and you should be fine, so I'm going to send you home now. Is that okay with you?"

She nodded. "I guess so."

Then he said, "Just in case you decide to keep it, I'm going to put you on Nevirapine. It helps some babies with HIV positive mothers to not get the disease. It doesn't always work." Her HIV. She hadn't even thought about that.

He removed the I.V. from her hand and covered it with a Snoopy band-aid. "Should I send your boyfriend in?"

"No!" she said without thinking. She calmed herself down. "Give me a couple of minutes to process this, okay?"

"How's 10 minutes sound? Then I'll send him in. I'll tell him the nurse is with you." She nodded and he left her alone.

She just sat there for a few moments. She put her hand on her middle. A little…thing was growing in there and getting bigger with every minute. Like a parasite. She would have to drop out of school to take care of it. She'd never get her nursing degree. Roger would be mad at her. They both new she hadn't been as responsible with the pill as she should have. She forgot to take it sometimes. And he'd been amazingly accountable. He never forgot to use a condom. He never protested against it like the other guys she'd dated. Plus, he was 26. 26 is a good age for starting a family. Not 20. Hell, she was wearing a Snoopy band-aid! People who wear Snoopy band-aids shouldn't have babies!

And what if he wanted to get married? She hated the idea of marriage. As much as she loved him, she simply thought that marriage was the dumbest idea on the planet. Who says you have to marry your partner? Ducks mate for life and they don't have weddings. Roger was responsible. He'd want to marry her. All signs were pointing to an abortion.

Then she remembered the little girl at the funeral. The little girl who had been born with the virus and was going to die before she reached the third grade because her parents had HIV. The little girl who now had to spend the last part of her life without her mother.

Joanne and once said that about 30 of babies born to HIV infected mothers got the disease. When she'd told her that, it didn't seem like that much. But now that there was a thing growing inside of her, it sure seemed like a lot. 30. She pictured a room full of 100 happy babes. Then she pictured someone coming in and taking THIRTY of those babies and throwing them into the Nile like they did back in Moses' time. And one of those babies was hers. She started to cry again. There was no way she'd be able to go through with this. She would have the abortion in a week or so and she wouldn't tell Roger. That would be that. It wouldn't be that big of a deal. All she would be doing was saving the world from having more people with AIDS and saving one child from a miserable life. Look at how miserable the little girl had been. She would have the abortion and her conscious would be clear. Or so she hoped.

She heard footsteps. Roger was coming back. She caught her breath and wiped away her tears. "Meems?"

"…Yeah?"

He pulled back the curtain around her bed and closed it behind him. "Hey, baby." She flinched. _Baby._ "Hey, have you been crying? Your eyes are all red. "

"No," she said a little too quickly. "I'm just tired, don't worry." She tried to look him in the eye, but she couldn't. "Could you help me with the hospital gown? The doctor said I could go home, so I guess I should change."

She was happy not to be looking at him as he undid the ties on the gown. "So, is that all the doctor had to say?" He asked.

"He said I have anemia. I'll be fine."

"See?" he said, pulling off the gown. "I told you you'd be fine!" He kissed her on the cheek. She turned back around, but when she looked at him, the closest she could look to his eyes was his forehead. She put on her bra and dress. As she did so, she remembered the funeral.

"Where's everyone else?" She asked.

"I guess they don't know you're here," he said. "They were in the church when you fainted. I guess I should have called them."

"No," she said, crumpling the tights she didn't feel like wearing in a ball and shoving them in her purse. "It's good you didn't call them. They just would have worried, and that doesn't do any good."

"Yeah," he laughed, "And I did enough worrying for the both of us." She gave him as real a smile as she could manage and started putting her shoes back on. "No way," he said, snatching them away from her. "You aint walking those things. Look at you're feet! I'm calling us a cab." She tried to protest. They couldn't afford cabs. He insisted, though. _I can't afford a cab. How am I going to afford a baby? I'm doing the right thing._

The days passed slowly. She took the Nevirapine and told Roger it was for her anemia. She made the appointment at the abortion clinic without telling a soul. She couldn't face Roger. She was too guilty. She wouldn't come home from school until late, saying that she was having trouble in chemistry and was staying late for tutoring. She'd leave early for work at the Cat Scratch saying that now that she was waiting tables instead of dancing (Roger had wanted it that way), she had to get their a lot earlier. (Another reason not to have the baby. She'd loose her job. No one fantasies about fat pregnant women.) When she got home from work late at night and Roger would make a move or something, she'd say she was still exhausted from the anemia, kiss him lightly, and pretend to fall asleep when she was really lying awake in guilt. She wanted to tell him. They'd promised to always be honest. But it was too late now. He might be mad at her for waiting so long to tell the truth. Besides, she'd already scheduled the appointment. And what if he wanted the baby? She gripped her stomach and cried herself to sleep without making a sound.

The night before the abortion, she couldn't sleep at all. She left a note on her pillow for Roger saying that one of her friends was having a problem and needed her, and she left. Still wearing the sweats she'd worn to bed that night, she walked down the street covered in her fleece blanket. She used the key Maureen had given her and walked right into her and Joanne's apartment. "Hello?" she whispered.

A voice came from inside the dark room. "Put your hands up where I can see them! I am armed. I repeat, I AM armed! Make one single move and I'll attack!"

"Joanne, it's me, Mimi." The light turned on. She looked at Joanne who was holding a loaf of French bread, with Maureen cowering behind her. "Eek." She said, laughing. "Bread. God help me." The couple sighed in relief. "Sorry," she continued, "I'm cynical when I'm tired."

"No worries," said Joanne. "I'm cynical when I'm breathing. Babe, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

"Did you and Roger have another fight?" Maureen asked. They sat on the couch and motioned for Mimi to join them. She sat by Joanne, and Maureen grabbed her legs and stretched them across both their laps. "Comfy?"

"Yes," she said.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm comfy."

"So you didn't have a fight?"

"No," Mimi said. "Roger's been great." They looked at her in confusion. She didn't know what to say, so she just came out and said it. "I'm pregnant."

She watched as both their eyes became big round balls in their faces. Then Maureen started squealing, "Oh my God! A baby! That's great! Oh, what are we going to name it? Is it a boy or girl? How far a long are you? A baby! A—" Joanne covered Maureen's mouth when she saw that Mimi wasn't clapping along with them.

She tried to smile. "I'm having an abortion tomorrow."

"Oh," said Maureen. Then she got it. "_Oh._" Mimi nodded. "What does Roger think?"

She frowned. "That's why I'm here. I…well, he doesn't know."

Joanne sighed. "Oh, sweetie," she said, "He's the father. Don't you think he has a right to know?"

"Don't give me your lawyer talk!"

"It isn't lawyer talk. It's moral talk. He's the father, Mimi. It's his child, too."

"Well," she said, "tomorrow it will be no one's child. I can't tell him. It would break his heart. I can't have this baby." She began to list her reasons. "I'm poor, I'm too young, and I'm finally in school. I'd have to drop out. I'd loose my job. We can't afford it. I'm not ready. I want to enjoy what's left of my life with Roger! I can't do that if I'm taking care of some brat. And what if it has HIV? I can't. I won't! I'll be dead before it's out of elementary school. That's not fair to it. I can't go through with it." She felt herself beginning to cry again.

Maureen thought it over and said finally, "I guess…it's probably best, then. Don't worry, babe. We'll be here to talk all night."

"That's…not why I'm here." She said. "I was wondering…if maybe you guys could go with me tomorrow. I don't want to do this alone. I'm so scared."

Maureen covered her mouth to keep from crying. "Of course we will, sweetie."

"I have to represent a client," Joanne said, but Maureen gave her the _are you kidding me!_ look and she said, "But of course I can postpone it. My client's stupid appeal on the death penalty can wait for you."

Mimi smiled and laughed through her tears. "Thanks," she managed to say, before she became lost to her sobs. They held her and rocked her and cried with her until she calmed down. Maureen asked if she wanted to crash with them for the night.

"No," she replied. "I kind of want to be close to Roger right now."

Joanne nodded. "I'll drive you home. We'll pick you up tomorrow at noon and take you to the clinic. Just tell him we're going out to lunch."

When Mimi got home, she kicked off her shoes and fell into bed, crumbling the unread note up and throwing it in the trash. She got under the covers and wrapped her arms around Roger and rested her head on his chest. He stirred under her weight. "Hey," he said gently.

"Roger," she said. Her throat was tight. "You love me, right?"

He kissed her. "Of course."

"And you'll always love me? No matter what?"

He kissed her again. "You know I will. I swear. Is something up?"

"No," she said. "I just want you to hold me tonight. Is that okay?"

He kissed her one more time. "Of course." Mimi fell asleep that night to the sound of her nervous heart pounding.

When Joanne and Maureen came to pick Mimi up for "lunch" the next day, Roger had no idea that the reason Mimi was holding him so close was because she was about to do the hardest thing she would ever have to do. Mimi was just glad that she'd been able to keep her tears in until she got out the door. Maureen looked at her with a heavy heart. She couldn't imagine this girl's pain. "I'm so glad I'm a lesbian," she said.

Joanne hit her on the shoulder, but Mimi's sobs turned into laughter. "Thank you," she said, "For making a joke. I love you guys. It means so much that you're coming with me for…" her voice trailed off and she started to cry again.

The clinic's small waiting room was full of young weeping women and their boyfriends and best friends. It was abortion day. Today just plain sucked.

Every now and then, a nurse came in and called in another woman. Mimi watched them. One of them ran out of the clinic. The rest came into the doctor's exam room pregnant and came out…well…not. She started shaking. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Joanne kept asking. She just nodded and went right on shaking.

After the forth or fifth girl's appointment, the nurse came out and said, "Marquez? Mimi Marquez?" If there had been anything in her intestines, Mimi would have shat herself. She stood up and was shaking very violently.

"Mimi!" Joanne said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes!" She moaned, sobbing harder than she's ever sobbed in her life. "What other choice do I have?"

A crying Maureen stood up and hugged her. "Can we go in with her?" She asked the nurse.

"No." The nurse's voice was angry. Mimi followed the nurse into the exam room. A few minutes later, she came out. She fell, crying, into both their arms.

"It was awful!" She bawled. "They were mean! And they put my legs in these stirrups and it hurt! And then they had this machine…it was like a vacuum cleaner! They said it would suck the baby out and I asked if it would hurt! They said yes." She cried and cried.

Maureen held her tightly against her chest. "Did it?" she asked.

"Maureen," she said. She looked up at her and tried to stop crying long enough to get the words out. "I didn't go through with it!"

Maureen and Joanne smiled and started crying, too. "Sweetie," she cooed. "It's okay. It will all be fine."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Joanne.

"I don't know. But…" she caught her breath. "I can feel it living inside me. It's Roger's baby and I love him! I love him so much! I can't do this to him! And…"

"What?"

"I think I might love this baby already, too."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Short chapter. My apologies. But it gets my point across. If you love me, you will review. If you don't love me…well that's too bad. Because I love you. So you can still review anyway. Please? **

After a whole other week went by without telling him, Mimi knew she couldn't put it off any longer. It wouldn't be long before she started to show. She figured most men would probably notice when her stomach became inflated to the size of a bowling ball.

One night, as they laid awake in bed, Mimi leaning against Roger, she heard herself talking. "I got knocked up when I was 14." He sat up, and looked at her, confused. "I told you about Maria Tedesko's brother, Roberto, right?"

He nodded. "Your first boyfriend."

"It's not like I loved him. I knew I didn't. But I slept with him anyway because he wanted to and I guess I wanted him. We only did it twice. Once was enough."

He rubbed his neck. "You don't like have some six year old kid I don't know about…do you?" He asked cautiously.

"No."

"So you had an abortion? Not a bad idea, I guess. You were a kid."

"No," she said. "I didn't have an abortion."

His eyes narrowed. "Sorry, Meems, but there's something I must not be getting, then. Were you pregnant or what?"

"My mother made me go to that shit Catholic school before I was old enough to protest. There were so many pregnant girls there…the nuns told us if we had abortions, we'd go to Hell. I wanted just to get rid of it, but I decided not to. You know, for the Hell reason. Besides, I was 14. Babies were cute."

"Naturally."

She grinned. "Yeah, well. I was probably like seven weeks along and I still hadn't told mom. I was going to the next day. So, I was naked in the bathroom, after taking a shower. I went to the sink and started brushing my teeth. It came out in two clots. I had these bad cramps in my stomach and I heard this plop. I looked down and I was suddenly standing in a puddle of blood. Then there was another plop and more blood came out of me and this…this…thing. The embryo, I guess. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. Anyway, after a minute the cramps pretty much stopped. I finished brushing my teeth and I grabbed a rag to clean up the blood. Then I took another bath to wash the blood out from between my legs and help ease my cramps. I didn't tell anyone. The next day I went to school and aced my math test."

"So," he began, "You miscarried then."

"Mmm."

He kissed her temple. "I'm sorry Mimi. That must have been rough."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you _kidding_ me! I was practically a baby! I didn't want one of my own. I felt nothing inside when I miscarried. I _wanted_ to get rid of it." She took a deep breath, and then another. It was now or never. She chose now. "But I want to keep this one."

"Beg pardon?" He said, not catching on.

She pulled away from him and sat cross-legged on the bed, look at him with and _yeah right_ expression. "Roger, you're a dumbfuck," she said in matter-of-fact sort of way that caught him very much off guard. "You mean really don't know!"

"That I'm a dumbfuck? No, I knew that."

"Roger!" She snapped. "Do you really think those meds I'm taking are for god-damned anemia!"

"Um," he murmured. "Yes?"

"Oh, Roger," she said in disgust. "They're prenatal vitamins for someone with _fucking_ HIV." She watched as his eyes widened. He understood now. "Oh, and I was going to have an abortion. I went to the clinic and everything without telling you. I'm putrid for that, I know." He opened his mouth to speak and he looked angry. But Mimi didn't stop. "Keep in mind that I'm having this baby whether you like it or not. And someday it might ask me what its daddy said when I told him I was pregnant. You should know that I'm not going to lie. So don't say anything you're going to regret." He opened his mouth once more, but Mimi nervously shut him up. "You know what? Don't say anything at all. It took me 2 whole weeks to get up the nerve to tell you. You can have a night to process it. We'll talk about it in the morning, okay? Right." She reached across him and turned out the light, then curled up on her own side of them bed.

Moments passed. Then she felt Roger's arms curl around her body. He touched her stomach. "I love you," he whispered right into her ear. She turned to him quickly.

"So…you're okay with me having it?" He voice was sweet with hope.

He kissed her upon the eyes. "Of course, Mimi."

She squeaked. He laughed at her and she kissed him more passionately than she'd ever even dreamed of kissing anyone in her entire life.


	7. Chapter 7

It became clear very quickly that pregnancy was going to suck for Mimi. Her breasts got sore and huge very quickly (Roger didn't mind…how big of him, right?). She had to pee every 15 minutes and she couldn't ever hold her breakfast down. She always wanted to have sex (once again, Roger didn't mind) and she cried about everything ("Oh, no! This banana turned brown! It was so young! God, why couldn't you just take me instead! sobs).

She quit her job at the Cat Scratch. She knew she was going to get fired in a few months, anyway. When she stopped stripping, she wanted it to be her choice. Roger put on his best responsibility hat got Sam from his band to hook him up with a job at his shitty music store, fixing shitty guitars for shitty musicians for shitty pay. But it was work and it was only a few hours a day.

Two days after she told Roger, when she was only about 5 weeks along, everyone came over for a sort of celebration thing. And for _once,_ Mimi didn't have to cook.

"Did you _seriously_ cook _all_ of this?" She asked skeptically as she helped Collins set out the meal on the coffee table.

"Why?" he said, almost seductively. "Would that impress you?"

"Perhaps…"

"Well, then I made it!"

She raised her eyebrows. "So the Life Café does take-out now?"

He frowned and tried his very best to look innocent. "Well, yeah, there's that." She laughed and they all took their places around the coffee table, Mimi in the place of honor in the center of the couch.

Maureen walked around filling everyone's champagne glasses. "Bubbly," she announced in her show-host voice, "For the luck non-pregnant people over the age of 21. And for our darling mommy-to-be, apple cider."

"Lucky me…" Mimi sighed. "I have to pee."

"Well, hold it in," Roger said, and raised his glass. "A toast. To the future Roger Junior."

"Roger Junior?" She cried. "Yeah right! The only way you're getting away with that for a boy is if it's Mimi Junior for a girl."

"Nuh-uh!" he said childishly. "Junior is only for boys!"

"Chauvinistic pig," she muttered.

"Oh, stop," said Maureen. "We both know you'll be naming it after me!"

"But…what if it's a boy?" Roger asked, taking a sip. Mimi looked at him enviously.

"Then Maureen-the-boy!"

Mimi giggled and suddenly slapped Collins's arm. "Get yo' hands off my belly, boy. I swear if, if one more person touches me there…And we should name it after a famous author."

"Why?" Roger said, taken aback. "Oh, God, this isn't about your Peter Pan obsession, is it? Because no son of mine is going to be called James. Then he'll become a lawyer and I hate lawyers." She shrugged. "And what would a girl be? Jamie? Yuck."

"No," she said, "Maya. For the Angelo of that name."

"Whatever," Joanne intervened. She raised her glass. "To the future baby Davis."

"Marquez!" Mimi shouted.

"Oooooh," Roger said. "I see. You're cool with sleeping with me, but you don't want to marry me so the kid can have _your _last name. Well, that's fair."

"Oh, shut up," she teased, "We both established that matrimony is a dictatorial symbolic observance with no purpose other than to augment our taxes and condemn us to melancholy." Everyone looked at her, dumbstruck. "Sorry…" she said, "My mom sent me a word-a-day calendar. I'll stop using it."

Roger got down on one knee and took her hands in his and said with the utmost sincerity, "My life meant _nothing_ until you used my toothbrush."

"Awww," Mimi grinned from ear to ear and had to bite her lip hold in laughter. "I love you, too."

They kissed until Mark chucked a candid Polaroid he's just taken of them shoving their tongues down each other's throats. "Honestly. You guys are disgusting. I mean, really." He raised his glass once more and said, "To Roger Mimi Maureen James Maya Davis-Marquez, the result of Mimi's and Roger's continuous disgustingness!"

"Cheers!" They finally cried. Mimi took a sip then stood up quickly.

"Sorry, guys," she whined, "But I _really_ have to pee!"

She came back in a few minutes, bladder empty, and dug in to the "home cooked" meal.

"So," Joanne said. "Any regrets about all this?"

Mimi shrugged. "I wish I was older. But that doesn't count as regret, and I guess it doesn't matter so much. I do wish I wouldn't have to drop out of school. Anyway, I thought we all agreed to forget our regrets so…"

Maureen slammed her plate down on her lap. "What do you mean, "drop out of school"? God, Mimi! This is your fucking _dream_!"

"I know…" she said, "But I have to be responsible."

"Responsible-shmonsible. I hope you know that that baby isn't just _your_ baby."

"Yeah, man," Collins said. "I mean, it's all of ours."

Mark tickled Mimi's belly (much to her annoyance) and said in his best baby-talk voice, "Yes you are my little Markie-junior! Yes you are! Can I give you a kiss? **Can I give you a kiss?**"

"_No_."

"Right…" He sat down and put his hands in his lap. "Sorry, Meems. But dude…we're a family. I am henceforth Uncle Mark. And Junior here can spit up on me all he wants while you're at school or whatever."

"Babe," said Roger, "Did you _really _think any of us were going to let you drop out?" She started to cry again. "Oh, God…" he mumbled. He hated showing emotions and he hated crying women.

"I really do love you guys," she blubbered. They all moseyed over for a great big group hug. "Um, guys? All this love is great and everything but…"

"You have to pee again."

"YES!"

**A/N: You like? WERRRD. Review or I will eat your soul. Like, seriously. I have this jar by my bed and I call it my soul jar. And in it are all the souls of people who don't review my fan fictions. I use them for midnight snacks. I also eat freshmen. **

**Only not really. **

**Ta. **


	8. Chapter 8

Months passed. Mimi's 21st birthday was arriving. Her belly, boobs, and butt got huge (the three Bs, she called it) and she could no longer fit in any of her clothes, with the exception of her college sweatshirt, one or two band t-shirts, and a long black skirt that even her grandmother wouldn't have been caught dead in. She started wearing Roger's clothes, but since he only had one good pair of jeans, that presented a problem. Sacrifices had to be made. She wore his pants and he wore Mark's sweats. That didn't last long, though.

Just as Maureen had promised, Mimi was given a 21st birthday bash to remember. The gang, her peeps from Life Support, Roger's sister Libby, her old friends from work and a few girls from school, 2 couples from their building, and even Benny showed up at the Life Café that night, all of them bearing gifts. Mostly maternity clothes (thank God!) and baby junk. She was four months along by now and had started to worry about such things.

Roger snuck up behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. "Guess who."

"George Clooney?" She turned around and faced him. "Well what do you know? I was right." She kissed him.

"I can't _believe_ you're not letting anyone drink tonight," he complained, massaging her sore back.

"If I can't drink on my 21st birthday, no one can."

"Do you enjoy being _evil_?"

She leaned her head to his and nibbled his ear. "A bit," she said in her most excellent sex kitten voice, and they kissed

"You know," he said, between kisses, "The 5th amendment to the Constitution specifically states 'No cruel or unusual punishment.' I think no drinking qualifies for cruel and unusual."

She snorted out laughter. "That's the 8th amendment, you fucker. Don't be a douche. The 5th is protection against self incrimination." He wrinkled his nose and she kissed him again. "You're cute."

She leaned against his chest and he traced the outline of her belly with his big hands. "How do you feel? Now that you're 21."

She shrugged. "Same, I guess. Birthdays are funny that way. Certain ones always are supposed to have this great significance, but I never felt that."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Like…when you're thirteen…you're finally a teenager. But by the time I was that old, I just didn't care. I was already an adult on the inside. And then you're 16 and it's like 'Woah! I can drive!' But I never learned how, so that didn't matter. Then comes 17 and you can see R rated movies. I'd been sneaking in to those since I was 11. I guess my 18th birthday was okay…I was allowed to have sex with older men and get my blockbuster card."

He blinked a few times. "And vote…"

"Whatever. But now I'm 21 and it's the same as always. This baby thing is making me cynical. Say something to make me happy."

"You…you can _drink!_" She rolled her eyes, grabbed his hands and placed them firmly on her middle, emphasizing her point. "Oh…yeah…uh…oh, look! Things!" He kissed her cheek and went to talk to his sister.

"Loser," she called after him and he winked at her. "I'll be here! Drinking my _water._"

Maureen came over and started jabbering away about the "killer baby shower" she was going to throw by the time Mimi was in her seventh month. "…I mean, I know that baby showers should be cute and shit, but this is Mimi Marquez the STRIPPER we're talking about. If Junior is a girl, do you think she'll want to be a stripper? How cool would that be? I mean, of course I'll be the responsible Auntie and tell her 'No way, José,' but dude. Strippers rule. Shame you had to quit. Do you think you'll get another job? Anyway, the baby shower…I'm thinking we'll need a theme…nothing lame like Star Trek. You know, I've never ever seen an episode of that. Maybe I should. Oh, God. What if junior turns out to be a Trekkie? That's it, there's no way I'm letting that baby watch any TV ever."

"Maureen!" Mimi laughed. "Reality is actually mildly cool. You should check it out sometime."

Maureen smiled and waved Mark over. He held his camera up and narrated, "Pan in on Mimi's fat tummy. Is it Mark Junior or Maureen Junior in there? What do we think, Mimi?" He looked up, neglecting to notice at what angle he was currently filming.

"Mark! Get that camera away from my cleavage!"

"Oops! Sorry…" He shoved in into Maureen's hands and she filmed them as Mark tickled Mimi's abdomen and she attempted to strangle him.

Joanne planted herself next to Mimi and began talking about a woman she'd represented her first year out of law school. Her name was Clarisse and she'd murdered her husband during her ninth month of pregnancy. Thanks to her lovely lawyer, she was found not guilty. Joanne had managed to convince the jury that pregnant women could not be held accountable for their actions. Mimi smiled at that and gave Mark a little pat on the head before running over to Collins for a great big hug. She loved his hugs. They reminded her of Angel.

The next morning, Roger woke Mimi much too early for her taste. "Come on! Come on! Come _on!_" He whined, bouncing slightly on the bed like a petulant child.

"Ughh." She rolled over and covered her head with a pillow.

"_Mimi_!" He yelled, and pulled the blanket off her. Things had gotten a little kinky between them the night before, and she was completely naked. She gave a little shriek and snatched the blanket away from him, covering herself. "Aww, Mimi. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"It's fucking freezing, you asshole!" She wrapped it around her and stood up to change into some of her cute new—and much needed—maternity clothes. "Why did you wake me up, anyway? I had been having this great dream…I was on a nude beach with Fabio and I _wasn't _fat and pregnant."

"Fabio!" He cried, and fell onto the bed in mock death.

"It was only a dream," she said, laughing.

"But Fabio? You'd rather go to a nude beach with Fabio than with me! Mimi, I'm appalled." He got up and helped her adjust the straps on her new black motherhood tank top. "Well, how did he look?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was he…you know…big?"

She put her brown newsboy hat on and giggled. "Roger, it was a dream."

He handed a scarf to her. "I just want to know. Was he bigger?"

"What," she said, "Than you?" He nodded. "Roger, I can not _believe_ we are having this conversation!"

"Just answer the question!"

"Well, sweetie," she began, smiling, "We were learning about George Washington in class the other day, and I just don't think I can tell a lie…"

He came to her with big his big hands and started tickling her sides. "Tell me!" He pleaded.

"No! Stop!" She shrieked happily. She tried to run away and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Within minutes both their shirts were off and they were making out. _AGAIN._

Finally, Roger tore himself away from her and sighed. "There's no time. We're going to be late!"

"For what?" She asked, pulling the tank top back over her head.

"Mimi, you forgot?"

"Forgot what?"

"_Mimi_," he groaned. "The ultra sound! It's today!"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Shiiiit!" She moaned. It was supposed to be neglectful daddies forgetting about things like ultra sounds. Not mommies. "I'm a terrible mother!" She wailed.

Roger groaned. "Mimi, cry later! We need to be there in half an hour!"

She rushed to put on her shoes. "They don't fit!" She cried. "My feet are swollen!"

"Wear mine."

"But what will you wear?"

"I have my old sneakers." He was still putting them on while they were running out the door.

As they walked (actually, it was more like sprinting) to the clinic, Roger asked, "So…should we find out if it's a boy or girl? Because I _really_ want to know."

"I'm not sure if they can tell us yet. I'm only four months along."

"Well, yeah," he said, "but we can ask, right?"

She stopped and shook her head. "My mother told me on the phone the other day that it's bad luck to find out the sex before it's born."

"Mimi! Come on! You don't believe in that stuff!"

"Roger," she admonished him, "You're acting like a child. You're not four. Now come, on, if we find out and then we end up with a stillborn…" she shuddered. "I miscarried once before. And we have HIV. I'm not taking any chances with this baby."

He let out a long breath. "Fine, you win. Hey, we're here."

When they got inside, they spent five whole minutes arguing over whether or not to take the elevator. ("It's only 3 floors, Roger. I'm pregnant, not immobile." "You'll tire yourself out, Meems. Do it for the little one! Please?") She finally agreed to take the lift, but called him fat and made him use the stairs, claiming that Americans were too lazy. By the time they both got up to the third floor and made it into the waiting room, they were late. Mimi and Roger went up to the front desk.

"Name?" Asked the angry nurse.

"Um…Marquez?"

"Late!" She barked.

"I know…" Mimi began, "But only by eight minutes."

"More like four months," Roger murmured. She elbowed him hard in the gut and he bent over in pain, gasping for air.

"Well," said the nurse, "We had to give your appointment to someone else. You'll have to wait another hour."

Mimi turned to Roger, annoyed. "Nice going, _Daddy._"

"Hey," he said, "Don't hate the player. Hate the game."

"How did that even make sense?" She cried, following him to two empty seats and sitting down next to him. "You used that in completely the wrong context!"

"College is making you too smart for your own good." She grinned and he kissed her.

There was a very pregnant African-American woman with the most amazing dread locks Mimi had ever seen sitting next to them. She was holding a little baby and had a six year old-ish girl sitting on her knee. "How cute," said the woman, staring at them.

Mimi leaned her head on Roger's shoulder and introduced them.

"Hi," said the woman, shaking their hands. "I'm Kara. This is my daughter, Beverly, and my son Arturo."

Roger's eyes widened. _Arturo. _He tried very hard not to laugh. They made small talk about the miseries of pregnancy. Then the nurse called Kara's name. She stood up with her children and went to the door for her appointment, but the nurse stopped her.

"No kids allowed in the exam room."

"Oh," said Kara, "But I…my husband had to work and I couldn't get a babysitter. Please."

"No kids allowed in the exam room."

Kara frowned. "I guess I'll just have to come back later..."

Just as she was about to leave, Mimi heard her self calling out, "We can watch them for you!" Roger gave her _no way in hell_ look, but she ignored them. "Really, go get your appointment. We'd be happy to look after them. Really."

Kara thought about it for a second, and then agreed. "I've got no time for another appointment. Thank you so much." She set down her diaper bag, handed Arturo to Mimi and left Beverly standing in front of Roger, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip. The woman smiled at them both, said she wouldn't be long,

"Roger?" Mimi said when Kara had gone.

"Yes?"

"I've…never actually held a baby before. Ever." He smiled. She lifted little Arturo from under the arms and held him out in front of her. He cocked his head to the left, then to the right, taking in all of Mimi's features. He didn't seem to have any problem with her, because then he simply fell asleep. "Er…Roger?" She muttered.

"Not now," he said, "I think I'm having a staring contest with Beverly." The two of them were glaring unflappably at each other.

"You blinked!" Beverly cried.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did _not!_"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Told ya' so!" Beverly stated obnoxiously.

Roger squinted his eyes and tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong in all that. Then he turned back to Mimi. "What?"

She held up Arturo. "It's asleep."

"And…?"

"So, now what?"

"Um," he said, "You hold him."

"That's it?"

"Yup. That's it."

She looked down at him. He was cute. She wondered if her baby would be cute. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked Roger.

"Not particularly…" Beverly suddenly climbed onto Roger's lap. "Hey, what are you doing!"

"There's no other chairs!" She whined. "And my feet hurt."

"Well…sit on the floor."

"_Roger_!" Mimi scolded.

"Grrrrr."

"Did you just growl at me!"

"I'd…rather not say." He looked to Beverly and waved. "Hi."

"You're a sick weirdo," said the little girl.

Roger's jaw dropped. "I don't understand where this hostility comes from!" Mimi laughed. Arturo woke up, gurgled a little, pulled Mimi's hair, and went back to sleep. Then Kara came back out.

"It's a boy!" she cried happily. Mimi and Roger congratulated her and gave her back her children. Kara thanked them over and over and over and over. She offered to pay them, but of course Mimi refused. Then it was time for her appointment.

The Mean Nurse of Death and Doom (as Roger had thus named her) left them alone in the exam room. Roger helped Mimi change into the incredibly ugly blue paper hospital gown, and the doctor came in just as she was sitting on the exam table.

"Ah," he said, "Miss Marquez. How are you this fine day?"

"Pregnant."

He laughed that soap opera doctor laugh. "I can see that." He asked her some questions (How have you been feeling, how often do you pee, are you experiencing any unusual discomfort, have you been taking the Navirpane, do you know when the child was conceived?) and nodded rather stupidly each time she answered. Then he told her to lie down, opened up the gown at the belly, and then squirted some blue gel on her. She gave a little yelp at how cold it was and grabbed Roger's hand. The doctor began to do the ultra sound. A little gray and white picture appeared on a screen in front of them.

She smiled and couldn't help but laugh. "Is…that the baby?" She asked.

"Sure is."

She looked up at Roger and grinned from ear to ear. He kissed her forehead and gave her hand a little squeeze.

He pointed to the screen. "That's the head, right there. Do you see?"

She nodded. "I think so. Is that little blinky thing the heart beat?"

"Indeed it is, Miss Marquez. Now, you don't want to know the sex, correct?"

"Correct."

Roger let out the most blatantly obvious sigh of annoyance this world has ever heard.

"Oh, shut it, will you? No, doc, we don't want to know."

"Well then," he said, "everything seems in order. You'll be giving birth to a fine healthy little girl or boy on what should be…" he checked his chart, "January 22nd."

"January 22nd," she repeated, instilling the date into her memory. "January 22nd, 1991."

"Doc?" said Roger. "Is there any way to find if…you know…if junior here has HIV?"

The doctor frowned. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we can't know for sure until it's born and has been on Navipane for at least a year."

"A _year_?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a whole waiting room full of pregnant people."

**A/N: You like? Please review! Sorry it took so long for me to update, this was a long chapter. Until I update again, I'd love very much for you to read my latest oneshot "When Your Heart Has Expired." You can find a link in my profile. Thank you! And remember, review! **


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Rawr.

Another month went by. Even though Mimi was still in fucking awesome shape for a woman who was (as Collins liked to put it) "in the family way," she felt huge—the 3 Bs were even bigger than ever before.

College was becoming brutal. She was taking summer classes to make up for the time she'd missed, and all the students and teachers looked at her like she was a slut. A big fat pregnant slut. Now that she wore maternity clothes, she was like a walking advertisement for what happens when you have premarital sex. "Save yourself for marriage!" Mama had always told her. Oops.

Toward then end of the course, one of her classes went to a shitty local hospital to get a depressing first hand look at sick people.

Weee.

Professor Greenberg led the group of 20some year olds around the lower floors.

They walked up to just outside of a hospital; room. He indicated a thin black woman lying in the bed inside. "In there," he said, "Is a woman of about 40 who was diagnosed with TB. Lucas, tell me what her symptoms might be.

"Oh, I…uh…there would be…"

Greenberg rolled his eyes. "Marquez, can _you_ tell me?"

_Oh, Holy cow… _"Um, night sweats and bad coughing and…" He waited for more. "Um," she stammered, "like…and pneumonia like stuff…?"

"Are you asking me, Miss Marquez?"

"No, sir."

"Well," he said, "You're _basically_ right. You neglected to mention difficulty breathing and weight loss. I'd suggest you study more." They walked on to the next room. Mimi was too busy being angry with mean old Greenberg to pay attention too much, but she looked up when he said, "AIDS."

"What?" She heard herself say.

He folded his arms across his ample chest and gave her a _cold as ice_ stare. "Was I boring you, Miss Marquez?"

"No sir," she said, ignoring his sarcasm, "I just didn't catch what you said."

He sighed, and pointed to the hospital room. "The girl in there. Dying of AIDS. Advanced AIDS. Kapiche? Now, Miss Marquez, since you don't seem to like to pay attention, perhaps you can also tell me the symptoms of HIV."

She smiled. _Too easy_. "Well," she began, "Signs can be fever, headache, tiredness, nausea, diarrhea, and enlarged lymph nodes. Some symptoms show up right away for some people, while in other cases it can take up to six weeks. These symptoms usually disappear within a week to a month and are often mistaken for another viral infection." She smiled bigger.

Professor Greenberg said nothing, clearly annoyed that she'd gotten it right, but not knowing why she did. "Well…the girl in here wasn't treated for her virus, so it advanced quickly and she's dying. Shall we move on?" Everyone walked past the room and Mimi looked into it through the window on the door. Then she stopped. She stared at the tiny girl in the bed with the golden curls and big sad eyes. _She had seen this girl before._

Without really knowing what she was doing, she opened the door and went inside.

"Marquez!" Greenberg shouted, "Get back here right now!" When she ignored him he followed her angrily into the room, and was about to pull her out of her by force when he saw her kneeling at the little girl's bedside.

"Hello," said Mimi.

"Hello…" said the scared little girl.

"What's your name?"

"Nicole." said the girl.

"Hi, Nicole," said Mimi with a little smile. "My name is Mimi. I was a friend of your mom's." She noticed Professor Greenberg, who suddenly seemed very sad and slightly less demonic.

Nicole nodded. "You were the crying lady at her funeral."

Mimi nodded. "Yes, I was. But I'm better now, I promise." She touched Nicole's hand. "How are _you_ doing."

"I'm real sad," she admitted.

"Oh," Mimi said, "I wish that wasn't true. A pretty little girl like you should be laughing all the time."

"Daddy died last week." Nicole told her.

Mimi bowed her head. "I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart. But you know what? I don't think he'd want you to be all sad and grumpy!" She tickled her stomach a little and the girl laughed, but quickly went back to pouting.

"Yeah," she said, "but my social worker says I'm gonna die, too. She said it's a crime because I'm so little."

Mimi tried not to look as heartbroken as she was. "You look like a big girl to me! What are you, eight?"

"Nine."

"Nine! Oh my gosh, you're so big!" Nicole seemed pleased. "Hey, sweetie. Want to know a secret?"

"M'kay."

She said in her most cheerful voice, "I've got the same disease you've got." Nicole looked like she was going to cry. "Oh, but you don't have to be sad! I'm a happy lady!"

"Why?" She asked. "Aren't you dying?"

"Am I dead right now?"

"No…"

"Then nope! I'm not dying. I'm living. And so are you!"

Nicole shrugged. "I don't get it."

Mimi planted herself on the bed with her. "It doesn't matter how long you're alive, baby girl! Didn't anyone tell you that? What really matters is what you do with the time you've got! Look at me. I'm sick, too, but do you see me being all mopey!" She made a funny face.

Nicole giggled. "No, you're silly."

Mimi grinned. "I sure am! Do you do silly faces?" Nicole stuck out her tongue. They laughed. "You're funny," she told her. The girl still seemed sad, so she decided to try a new tactic. "See my big fat stomach?" she asked. Nicole nodded. "There's a baby boy or girl in there."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"I like babies." Nicole said.

"Well," Mimi said in her most secretive voice, "I'm not going to have it for 4 months. But as soon as I do, we'll come and see you! Okay?"

Nicole sat up, excited. "Can I hold it!"

"Duh!" Mimi cried. "But you're going to have to be happy. Deal?" She extended her hand.

Nicole contemplated this for a moment, then grasped it firmly and shook it. "Deal."

Mimi gave her a great big hug and promised that she and her friends would visit every week, and that they'd bring her cookies. Then the said goodbye and she quickly walked past her stunned professor and left the room.

He followed her down the hall. "You're good with kids," he muttered.

"Thanks," she said, obviously pissed off at him.

"I did know you had HIV."

"Yup." She didn't look at him and kept on walking.

"I…"

Part of her wanted to smack him in the face and tell him to fuck off, because why the hell should a few years off her life be reason for special treatment? Instead, she stopped, turned around, patted his back kindly, then left to catch up with the rest of the group and promptly forgot about him.

Mimi got home that day and went straight for the freezer. She struck gold. There was a half empty (or half full, depending on how you look at it…) pint of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream just sitting there, waiting—nay, begging—to be eaten. Mark, who was the only other person home, came out of his room and stretched and yawned. He acknowledged her with a nod.

"Yo," she said, displaying the pint. "Care to join me for a little ice cream anti-social?"

"Sure," he grunted, went for the cabinet, and pulled out two bowls.

"Who do you think is washing those?" she asked sarcastically.

"Right," he muttered, and put them back, grabbing just two spoons instead.

The sat down on the couch next to each other and dug in. Mimi practically had an ice cream-gasm while she ate. Abruptly, she stated that she needed pizza and made Mark order one.

Then she said (rather randomly), "Mark, do you think I'm going to be a horrible mother?"

"What? Of course not!" He cried. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. Just a thought, I guess."

"Well…" he murmured, "Don't think like that."

"Fine," she said dismissively. She didn't want to think about it anymore. "Change the subject," she ordered.

He thought for a moment. He decided to go with, "So…your friends at school…"

"What about them?"

"Are they…er…nice?"

"Uh…yeah. Sure." _What the…?_

"Excellent," he said, rubbing his neck nervously. "So…anyone you could maybe fix me up with…sort of?"

Mimi almost spat her ice cream out, she laughed so hard. "Little Markey felling lonely?" She prattled.

"_No! _I just thought…come on, I'm desperate! Aw, never mind."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Babe," she said, quite seriously, "Are you so desperate that you're willing to date an immature prissy college girl with highly naïve and pretentious world views that will come crashing down the minute she graduates?"

"Well…" he continued, "Just keep an eye out or something. This is getting intolerable."

"Yeah," she snorted. "It's been two years since you had hot monkey sex."

"MIMI!"

"What?" She said. "I'm a horny pregnant person. Please bear with me." He gave her a nuggie and she ducked down, unintentionally resting her hands on her stomach. All of a sudden she froze. "Oh my God…" she whispered, grasping her belly.

Mark stopped. "What?"

"Oh my God."

"Are you okay? Mimi!"

Just then, the front door slid open and Roger entered, looking beat. "Rog!" She shrieked. "Come here!"

"Mimi, what is it!" he cried, dropping his things on the ground and running to her side.

"Roger," she said. Her voice was strange and distant…and excited. "Give me your hand."

"Why…?"

"Just give me your hand." He produced it cautiously. She held it for a moment, and then placed it firmly on her baby bump. "Do you feel that?" She asked.

"Feel what? Mimi, are you okay?"

"Shhh." She snapped. "Feel there. Right there. Don't you feel that? That little _thump, thump, thump…_?"

He lowered his eyebrows thoughtfully. "I…I think so…" he said. "What is it?"

"Roger." She whispered. "That's the heartbeat!"

A smile slowly formed upon his lips. "That's our baby's heart?" She grinned and nodded. He bent down and kissed her fervently on the mouth. "Mark," he said when she finally pushed him away due to lack of oxygen, "You've _got_ to feel this."

"Sorry," he said. "Mimi banned me from touching her there."

"Oh, just get over here," she relented. Roger stepped aside and Mimi helped Mark find the beat.

"Wow," said Mark. "That's weird."

"Good weird?" she asked. "Or bad weird?"

He beamed. "_Wonderful_ weird." They all shlumped on the couch, Mimi in the middle, and continued felling the heartbeat. "Are you sure that's not _your_ heart?"

"Dumb ass," she laughed. "Is my heart in my stomach?"

"Oh yeah…"

Mimi's ankles were swollen and she bent forward to remove her shoes for relief. She couldn't make it past her knees. "Damn it!" She hissed. "I'm so fucking huge."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "You were one of those kids who yelled at your Barbie Dolls for being too fat, weren't you," he said.

"Actually, I shaved their heads and flushed them down the toilet."

"Freak…"

"At least I'm not a born-again virgin."

"True."

The three of them looked up when they heard a few quick knocks on the door. "That's my pizza," Mimi told them. "I'll get it."

Roger extended his arm to help her up. "You know, I _can_ still walk," she told him, refusing his help and getting up on her own.

"Barely…" he chuckled, watching her waddle to the door.

A gawky 16 year old boy with blond hair and braces handed her the pizza. "That'll be 5.50," he mumbled. She took the pizza and reached for her purse, when she froze. The pizza fell to the floor.

"Holy…" her voice trailed off in amazement.

"Mimi!" Roger cried. He ran to her.

"HOLY SHIT IN A BARREL!" She shouted.

"Meems…"

"AHHH!" She squealed in delight.

The delivery boy looked at the box on the ground. "Are you still going to tip me?" He said.

Mimi seized the delivery boy's hand rather violently and placed it on her tummy. "DO YOU FEEL THAT!" She screamed.

"Mimi," Roger coaxed, "What is it? The heartbeat again?"

"DO YOU FEEL THAT!" She screamed once more, ignoring him. "DO YOU!"

The boy stepped back. "Do you want the pizza or not?"

"Fuck the pizza!" She ran to Roger and forced both his hands on her bump. "**Do you feel that! Do you? Do you feel it!**" He waited. "That's a kick!" She cried. "It kicked!"

_Maybe I won't be such a bad mom after all. _

**A/N: I suppose this was really just an intercalary/transition esque chapter. The next one will actually have a point, I swear. Sorry this took so long. A friend on mine passed and I haven't been able to write anything that isn't incredibly morbid. But I'll make it up to you very soon with a good chapter. PLEASE REVIEW. **

**Oh, and as of now, this story is dedicated with loveto Sean Apgar. See ya, Luv ya, Rest in peace. **


	10. Chapter 10

Maureen had decided that six and a half months into pregnancy was the perfect time to have a baby shower. And as she promised, it kicked some serious ass.

The first rule, Maureen had decided, was that there would be no boys allowed. Mark, Roger, and Collins were kicked out on the streets to fend for themselves for the afternoon. Since they still didn't know the sex of the baby, Maureen decorated everything in ugly bright orange, rather than pink or blue. She made copies of Mimi's sonogram and pinned them up everywhere. Everyone came.

They all drank (except Mimi) and blasted ACDC through the apartment in hopes of convincing the elderly couple below them to move out so that Mark and Collins could have their place. Mimi had strictly banned all baby-like games. So instead of pin the tail on the donkey (because donkeys were _so_ last year, as Maureen had put it), it was pin the penis on the naked man. They'd even arranged for a male stripper dressed as a baby to come and disrobe to the tune of "It's Raining Men."

Chloe and Jen from Life Support and Michelle from downstairs were the only women there with kids. They fixed themselves in front of Mimi and unthinkingly started telling horror stories about their own birthing experiences.

"With me," said Chloe, "It was _brutal_. My husband didn't want me to take any of their drugs, so it was pure pane. My flesh literally ripped apart while Charlie was being born. To this day it _still_ hurts when I have sex."

"Oh, God," Mimi said. "Okay, no more stories."

"Wait," said Michelle, "You have _got_ to hear this one. When my twins were being born, Joel came out just fine. Hurt like hell, but it was normal. Then it was Sarah's turn and she was in my uterus all wrong! So my doctor had to reach inside me and pull her out! It was the most painful experience of my life. It hurt so bad that I threw up and passed out. When Sarah was finally out of me, the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck and fingers."

"Oh my _God!"_

"Yup. And since they took it off her neck first so she would be strangled, it cut of the circulation to her fingers and she lost two of them."

"Well with _me_," Jen began, "My heart stopped and…"

Maureen's eyes widened as she walked past and heard Jen talking.

"Oh my goodness," said Maureen. "I think it's time for the stripper, right?" Mimi mouthed, "Thank you!" and Maureen nodded. "Hit the lights!" She screamed.

"It's Raining Men" started to play and the stripper did his thing. Mimi wooted and shoved dollar bills into his diaper. Everything was so loud; she didn't even hear the phone ring.

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. It was Joanne. "What's up, girlfriend?"

"Honey, I need to talk to you," Joanne said solemnly. Something was wrong. Mimi could tell.

"What is it?" She said flatly.

Joanne helped her stand and took her away from the stripping and the party. "Let's step outside, kay?"

"What is it? What's wrong?" she kept demanding. They walked into the empty hallway and Joanne closed the door behind them. They could still hear music from inside the flat.

"Sweety, I'm really sorry to be the one to tell you this…"

"Tell me what?"

"It's just, some of the girls overheard when I was on the phone, and I was scared you'd hear them talking about it or something, so I thought I should tell you."

"What is it?"

"Your mother," she said.

Mimi's heart started to race. "Is…she's okay, right! Right?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. She's in the hospital. That was her doctor…she doesn't have much time. They said they thought you might want to be there with her when she…I don't know. They said she was asking for you."

"No!"

"It's her lung cancer. She'd been refusing treatment…it was just so hard on her. Her friend found her passed out in her apartment this morning…I'm sorry, honeybear. Let's get you to the hospital, okay?"

Tears fell down her cheeks. "I want Roger!" She cried.

Joanne nodded sadly. "I'll find him for you, okay babe? Maureen will go with you to the hospital." She left a shocked Mimi in the hall and left for a few minutes to find Maureen.

They came out and helped her down the stairs. Just as they were about to split up in opposite directions (Joanne to the Life Café to find the boys, Maureen and Mimi to the hospital), Mimi said, "Jo, is this the last time I'm going to talk to my mother?"

She gave a sad, confused shrug and then said. "I don't' know, sweetie. It….might be."

Mimi nodded and went off with Maureen. How could things change so quickly?

After what seemed like forever and a half, they arrived at the hospital. Mimi went to the nurse's station. "I'm looking for Maria Marquez."

"One sec." Said an overweight nurse with a bad crop haircut.

"_I'm looking for Maria Marquez_." Mimi repeated irritably.

"Room 105. Gosh."

She rushed down the hall and found the room. Maureen pulled her back before she went in. "I'll be in the waiting room," she said. "Want me to let you know when Rog gets here?" Mimi shrugged indifferently. "Okay," said Maureen, giving her a hug. "Stay strong."

Maureen walked slowly down the hall, looking over her shoulder sadly at her friend with great concern. Mimi stood outside the door for a moment. If she just didn't go in…if she didn't face this reality…then it wouldn't _be_ a reality. How could she go in and face her mother? She'd been a terrible daughter. She'd lied about what her boyfriend was like, she'd lied about her life, she'd lied about having HIV. It didn't matter that she'd lied to protect her. It only mattered that she'd lied. Not to mention, she was pregnant and unwed. She could only imagine how ashamed her mother must be. She was such a shit daughter.

She must have stood by the door for a long time, because suddenly Roger was walking toward her.

"Mimi, what is it? Did you see her yet?" he asked, distressed for her.

"I can't do this," she whispered, running to him and weeping into his shirt.

He held her for a moment to comfort her and kissed her head, then held her out at an arms length and gently said, "Go." She knew he was right. She had to do this. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

She shook her head. "This is something I need to do alone."

He nodded. "I'll be right out here waiting."

"I might be a while," she warned.

"And I'll be here," he repeated. "Waiting."

They embraced and she slowly opened the door to her mother's room. Mimi pushed the door open. "Mama?" She too a small step inside. The walls were an ugly shade of mint green and the floor was light blue tiles, which really wasn't working for her. A curtain was drawn partly around one of the 2 beds, in which a very old woman lay snoring.

In the other one lay Mrs. Marquez. Mimi gasped when she saw her. She did not look like the Mama she'd grown up with. Her body, which had once been slightly plump and very strong, was now a thin skeletal-like frame…so fragile that Mimi thought she would break if she hugged her too hard. Her cheeks were pinched and her eyes were sunken, with dark circles underneath. Her hair had thinned from chemotherapy and radiation. It had once been beautiful thick black curls. Now it was gray except for at the very tips, where it was still black. She wasn't even 50. She shouldn't have looked so old.

Tears welled up in Mimi's eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. Her arms were folded across her ample chest; one of her hands was clutching a pendant that hung around her neck. Mrs. Marquez coughed and her eyes fluttered open. "Mommy," Mimi whispered, lapsing into the informal. She ran forward and into her mother's embrace, which was feeble and weak.

"Hey, Beautiful," said Mrs. Marquez.

"I love you, Mommy," she said right away, knowing the end was very near.

"I love you, too." She patted Mimi's belly. "You're so big! Do you know yet…boy or girl?"

"Ma," she whimpered, "You told me not to find out. I have my sonogram in my purse…I could ask a doctor to tell you if you want."

"No," she said, shaking her head slightly upon the pillow. "I'll know soon enough."

"What do you mean?" Did she think she was going to live 3 more months? Would she? Mimi took her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, chica." That was just like Mrs. Marquez, never to let on how miserable she was. She coughed again. This time she coughed up blood. Mimi covered her own mouth the keep from crying out. This was too much to bear. She started to sob.

"I love you," she said again.

"Oh, I know. Don't be sad, my girl." Her voice was hoarse. "You've got so much to look forward to. So much to hope for."

"Like what?" She almost snapped. Of course her mother thought she had a full life ahead of her. She didn't know…

"My grandchild, honey."

"Your grandchild," she repeated, stroking her round tummy. Mimi grimaced. "I'm worried, though," she admitted. "About the baby. The doctors…they think there's a possibility that something's wrong with it." She couldn't tell her about the HIV, though.

Mrs. Marquez appeared unmoved. "Nothing's going to be wrong with your baby. I promise."

Mimi shook her head. "How could _you_ possibly know?"

"Because," she said, as if it were fact, "I'll be in Heaven soon. And I'll be able to send you a strong healthy little baby. You just need to have Hope. Hope, Mimi. Hope is what keeps us strong, keeps us going. Hope for the best, and you will have the best."

"I just…can't seem to find that hope."

"Well you've got hope in your belly right now. Focus on that." She patted her daughter's stomach and grinned and then coughed.

Mrs. Marquez closed her eyes and Mimi noticed Roger standing in the doorway. "I love you," he mouthed. She offered him a sad smile and gripped her mother's hand harder. She had the two people she loved most near her, and yet she just wanted to lie down and die.

Mimi suddenly remembered something Angel had said to her a few days before she died: _"Everything is okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end."_

As Mimi sat there, stroking her dying mother's withered hand, she hoped hoped hoped with all her strength that Angel had been right.

**A/N: Woot, my friends. Sorry this took so long. The birth shall be sooooooon. Don't worry, I won't keep you hanging much longer. But no new chapters until you review. As the most kick-ass writer on ff.n (Dragonwolf) says, "Teacher says that every time someone is polite and reviews, and Angel gets its wings." Dragonwolf knows all.**


	11. Chapter 11

**So sorry it took so long, but i had finals and work and so on, and fan fiction was the last thing on my mind. Enjoy, and please review!**

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Roger sat on the bed, nervously fiddling with his needles. Mimi was just getting in the shower. That would buy him some time. It took her forever to shower, now that she could barely bend down to shave her legs. She was about 8 months pregnant. Christmas was coming and her semester was over. She was always home, which meant he didn't have any time for this, since he could never ever let her know what he was doing. His dignity depended upon it.

He started doing his thing. Then, suddenly, his door burst open and Mimi came in, muttering something about forgetting her towel. He immediately hid the needles behind his back and smiled innocently.

"What were you doing, Roger?"

"Nothing!" he said a little too quickly.

She raised her eyebrows. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing! God Mimi, go away." _Busted._

She peered behind him. "Oh my God," she said. "Are those…needles?"

"No!" he snapped. "Go take your shower. You smell."

"Oh my God," she gasped. "Those _are_ needles!" She smiled. "Those are knitting needles! You're knitting! Holy God, lemme see! …And shut up, I smell like peaches."

"Yeah, moldy peaches. Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about, Mimi," he muttered, blushing. "Go away."

"No way!" She giggled, climbing on top of him. "Let me see!" He sighed and relented. He couldn't say no to Mimi. "Awwwww!" She squeaked when she showed him his knitting. "It's a baby blanket! You're knitting a baby blanket! I can't _wait_ to tell Mark!"

_Ugh_. Mark would never let him live it down. Not after the great Cher incident of '88. But he said nothing, and just smiled at her. "I'm glad to see you happy. It's been a while, you know. Since you smiled like this." It was true. Her mom had died over a month and a half ago, and she just hadn't been herself since the funeral. She didn't cry anymore. She didn't even seem _that _depressed. She was just…numb. It felt like ages since she'd really laughed.

"How long have you been knitting?" She pressed, still laughing.

"Since I made my sister teach me when I was four. And I crochet, too, thank you very much."

"So…" she said, biting her lip to keep from cracking up too much, "did you make the sheets?"

"You can't knit sheets, Mimi. Be practical. Though you know Collins's hat? That's a Roger Davis original. And Mark's ever so lovely scarf. But shhhh. Don't tell him."

She gave a squeak and clapped her hands happily the way a child does for sheer amusement. "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Besides, that thing is butt-ugly."

He grinned. "You know, if Junior is a boy, we're teaching him how to knit. Screw society. Time to challenge gender rolls!"

"Hazzah," she yelled sarcastically. "Only if it can play football if we have a girl."

"She'll be crushed on the field!"

"Nuh uh! She's strong! She's kicking like a maniac! It's like she's doing freakin' _laps_ in there!"

"Or he," Roger said.

"Or he," she agreed.

Glowing, she kissed him and said, "I'll leave you to your _knitting._"

Then she promptly stood up and left, closed the door behind her, went into the main room, sat on the couch, and burst into tears.

"Mimi?" said a voice from behind her. She recognized it as Collins's, and turned to see him standing on the fire escape, smoking. She quickly wiped her tears away with her sleeve and tried to avoid eye contact. "Something wrong?" he asked, coming back inside and plopping down next to her on the sofa.

"It's nothing," she whispered. "Just hormones."

"Don't lie to me, Mimi."

She shrugged. "It's Roger."

"You had another fight?" he guessed.

"No," she said. "He's so incredible. He's so excited about the baby. He's knitting a baby blanket."

"Why is that making you cry? Wait. What? He knits? You know, I thought he was gay after we caught him with a Cher tape a few years ago, but now…"

"That's not why I'm crying, Thomas," she said sharply.

He reached out his big dark hand and touched her hair ever so slightly. "Then why? Because Angsty Mimi is NOT working for me. Or the crazy Rentheads on fanfiction."

"What?"

"Nothing!" Collins said quickly.

"Oops…" EverAfter89 said. "Heh…Fuck that. Anyway…"

She glanced up at him through her long lashes. "Can you keep a secret?" He nodded. She said in a discreet voice, "Today…I was going to tell Roger that I wanted to, um…give the baby up…for adoption."

"What?" he said simply. "Why?"

"Oh come on, Collins," she snapped, disgusted. "How fucking selfish would it be to kept his baby? We have AIDS. _We have AIDS_. We're fucking dying. My mom died. I'm 21 and it's killing me. What will it be like for a little kid to loose both its parents? This blows."

He frowned and sat down next to her. "You know, once we're gone…it would still have Mark and Maureen and Joanne."

Mimi shrugged. "They're not the parents. It's not the same. Doesn't the baby deserve a normal life?" She studied the wood floors thoughtfully. "What does it matter? It's just a baby."

Collins raised an eyebrow. "Just a baby? Just a baby my ass. Is Roger 'just a boyfriend?' No, he's your fuckin' soul mate. Was Angel…" he wavered. "Was she just your friend? No, she was your best friend. And this isn't just a baby. It's YOUR baby. Your child. Which means only you can know what's right."

She nodded. "I'll tell him tomorrow." Collins gave her a look. "What?" She demanded.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, Mimi. Maybe you should wait a few days, then. I mean, he's not going to take it well."

"You think?"

He let out a breath. "Before, he wanted to leave a song behind. But leaving a child behind? That's a thousand billion zillion times better than a song."

Mimi's heart sank. Collins was right. This would break Roger's heart. "Do you think we _should_ keep the baby, then?"

"Gal, you said it yourself. I'm not its parent. Only you can know."

She knew that what he said was true. She stood up to hug him before heading back into her room for bed. "Philosophers…" she muttered.

Her stomach felt so heavy as she padded back to the bedroom. She peered over at Roger. He'd fallen asleep with his knitting. Now that Mimi thought about it, it really wasn't _so _funny. It just made her love him even more. The little blanket her was making was in a small ball on his lap. She picked it up and folded it gently and placed it on the nightstand. Then she went to his feet and removed his sneakers. Finally she covered him with their blanket and kissed his forehead. Then she waddled over to her side of the bed and lay down beside Roger. She let out a gasp of pain—the weight of the baby pushed against her spine, sending her feet into agonizing spasms.

She waited for sleep, and it eventually came, but she awoke suddenly when a hard cramp gripped her lower abdomen. She thought for a moment that maybe her time had come, but she wasn't due for another month and the pain wasn't more than that of a bad stomachache. But if she was indeed going into labor, if this was the worst of the pains, then perhaps it wouldn't be as terrible as she'd heard. She remembered the stories she'd heard at her baby shower. Women whose hearts stopped and babies came out with missing fingers and flesh ripping apart as the child passed through. They were lying, she decided. They were just playing a sick joke. After all, billions of women had had babies, and they did alright. So it couldn't be _that _bad.

In one of the baby magazines Maureen had bought her, there was a story about women in Africa who were pregnant, but were so busy with their work, that when they went into labor, the just kept on working in the fields or with their sewing or whatever, not even interrupting their labor. Then the baby would come and they'd just pull it out and chew off the chord themselves and keep on working for the rest of the day. She thought about fetching the overnight bag Roger had packed for her, but she was too heavy and tired. She yawned and rolled over on her side. Perhaps she shouldn't go to sleep if she actually was in labor. It really wasn't hurting that bad. She might sleep through the whole thing. What if she woke up and the baby was already born? That wouldn't be too good. Another pain came. This one was a little worse. It caused her to take in a deep breath and grip her sheets as she tried not to make a sound. _False Labor,_ she told herself. _I read about false labor. That's what's happening._ She waited, and she could feel another contraction coming. She stood up right before it happened, and waddled quickly into the main room. She went to the couch and shoved the corner of a throw pillow into her mouth to stifle her cries. _Why wake everyone? It's false labor! _

Suddenly, Mimi fell to the floor. Her body curled, and she clenched her teeth trying to hold in another scream that came from deep inside where she could feel herself splitting open. When it finally passed, tears were coming down her cheeks.

"Mimi?"

It was Roger.

"Mimi?"

"I'm fiiiiiiine!" She cried as another contraction came. "I'm…."

Roger ran in. "Oh my God!" He saw her on the ground, a puddle of water beneath her feet. "Mimi." He said. He went to her side.

"I'm having a baby, Roger."

"I know."

"I wanted to give it up."

"What?"

"I'm having a baby, Roger."

"Yes, Mimi, and we need to get you to the hospital."

"Okay." She was barely lucid now.

"Mark! Mark!" Roger called. Moments later, Mark and Collins emerged from their room. "Mimi's in labor!"

Mark stared. "But…it's too soon!" He stammered. Roger shook his head in warning, so as not to worry Mimi."

"Can you stand?" Roger asked. She nodded. He helped her to her feet as Collins grabbed the overnight bag they'd packed, and went to call Maureen and Joanne. They left the apartment and reached the stairs. "Can you make it down?"

"I'll try." She nearly collapsed after the 3rd step. Roger took a deep breath, then lifted her into his arms and began to carry Mimi down the staircase. He winced and one could see his muscles strain as he carried her. Another contraction came (they were minutes apart now—it would only be a matter of hours before the baby came) and she thrashed in his arms. They came to the outside. The streets were deserted.

"Should we walk? Try to find a cab?" Mark offered.

Mimi got out of Roger's arms and stood in front of the men. "I'm in labor, a baby's coming, and I've got a shoe for of amniotic fluid. Do you REALLY want me walking 10 blocks?"

Before anyone could respond, a car came speeding up. Maureen was driving; Joanne was in the passenger seat. "Oh, Mimi!" Maureen sang out. "Come on, get in! Get in!"

Mimi's eyes widened. Maureen was driving in a car. A car that would be on roads. Roads with cats, children, and _nuns_ crossing the street. "Um."

"Get in! Oh, come on, you only live once!"

Joanne gave her a look. "Do you really think that's incentive for her to get in this car?"

"Do you really think you'll be able to drive fast enough, miss perfect?"

"Whatever!" Mimi shouted, and climbed in the back with Roger. Mark and Collins said they'd meet them there and went to call Roger's parents.

Maureen slammed on the break and Roger let out a yelp, making Joanne laugh, as Mimi struggled to fasten her seat belt.

The next few minutes were all a blur. Mimi passed out from a combination of fear and pain. She would remember blood and screaming and many bright lights. She wouldn't remember how she got into the hospital and into a birthing room. She would barely remember the doctor saying, "The head is crowning, it's time to start pushing."

"But what about my cesarean section?"

"It's too late for that now, you need to push."

She looked to Roger for help, who was holding her hand. He said, "It's coming, Mimi."

Then she felt some part of herself tearing away as it pushed lower. The pain had a life of it's own as it twisted and stretched, straining against her. She was growing weak and her body was doing most of the pushing for her.

"Yes!" Roger cried. "I can see the head! Our baby has hair!"

She tensed up and pushed once more, silently, until she heard the doctor say, "Congratulations." He held up a tiny baby, covered in blood and fluid.

Mimi suddenly remembered one of the last things her mother had ever said to her before she died. _"You just need to have Hope. Hope, Mimi. Hope is what keeps us strong, keeps us going. Hope for the best, and you will have the best."_

Then everything went blank.

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	12. Chapter 12

She was a girl. She was Mimi's girl. Mimi's little girl. She was a delicate little bundle, with eyes so deep an indigo that they were like the sky above New York at night, with hands so small that they were like the palms of a little frog. She had a dusting of jet black hair just like her mother's on the crown of her head. She had kissable rosebud lips and a button nose. When she cried, real tears fell out of her pretty eyes onto her fuming pink cheeks. She was perfect. She was absolutely perfect.

And her name was Hope.

The doctor took the new parents through the particulars. Little Hope would be put on anti-viral medication and be tested for HIV in 2 months, 6 months, and 12 months so they could know for sure if she was infected. Mimi tried not to listen. The thought of her sweet angel dying made her sick. Her breasts ached to feed Hope, but she knew she couldn't. Not with HIV. She would have to be formula fed…Mimi hated that. Babies grew up smarter if they were breast fed. Or at least that's what her baby books all said. She wanted Hope to go to college…maybe play the cello. The doctor assured her that there were plenty of cellists who ate formula as babies.

When the doctors at last let Hope live outside of the incubator, Mimi held her constantly. There were nurses offering to hold her or take her back to the nurse's station for a time while Mimi napped, but she would refuse and refuse until the stubborn nurses brought in a doctor who would order the baby to be taken away so that her mother could rest. Mimi fell in love with her. She fell totally and completely in love with her and could not fathom for even a moment that she could live without her sweet baby always by her side. She couldn't believe she'd even thought about giving her up. It hurt to think about the time she almost had the abortion…then this sweet child would not be here today and Mimi's life would not be worth living.

Roger melted at the very sight of the mother and daughter together for the very first time. At Mimi's urging, he picked the little bundle up from her arms and marveled at the tiny perfection of her exquisite features.

"What if I drop her?" he thought out loud, cupping her little head in his large hand as carefully as he could and rocking her gently.

"You won't drop her," Mimi assured him calmly.

"But she's so fragile." Roger tried not to think something like that, but his generally pessimistic mind wavered a bit.

"I know."

"She's…" a single tear rolled down his cheek. "She's beautiful. She's so beautiful." He stared at his daughter.

His mind was a mess. He was filled with the strangest most wonderful poetic thoughts any father could ever hope for. He was thinking, _She makes me want to be the best I can for her and for Mimi and for myself. I foresee and await the endless tantrums and finger paintings and diaper rashes and goofy smiles. She will learn how to walk. She will say a first word. She will watch me kiss her mother and she will watch her mother smile. She will cry. A lot. She may love a boy called Peter. Or Sergio. Okay, forget Sergio. She will rebel against me. She may even hate me someday. But in the end she will love me as much as I— and her mother and our friends— love her. She's my daughter. She's my Hope. _

He came out of his trance and was shaking. He smiled. A brilliant sheen was in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Do you love her?" Mimi pressed, even though she already knew the answer.

"I love her so much." Roger leaned down and kissed Mimi, and then placed Hope tenderly back into her arms. "I only wish that I could watch her grow up, you know?"

Mimi thought for a moment. She wouldn't live to see her get married or have children of her own…there was no way. She wouldn't even live to see her prom. But Hope would have a prom. She would get married. She would have babies. And so much more. "The only thing that matters is that she _will_ grow up," she said.

He smiled. "You're right." He looked down at the baby and then back to Mimi. "I love you." He wished now he could say something that would sum up how much he really cared about Mimi and their child, but he knew that those three little words had told her enough. Everything he could ever need was right there in front of him. Life was perfect, and filled with hope.

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**Yes, I know there's an actress named Hope Davis. A friend of mine pointed that out to me after I wrote the chapter. Oh well. Parts were inspired by Phillipa Gregory. And I used one of the lines in my other Rent story, 'Ana's Bed Time.' The one that said "she will grow up." I reused it because I thought it was a good message…yeah. You should read the story…hehe…cough. Oh, and sorry it was a short chapter, but it got my point across. Review or face my wrath. Grrrr.**


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